Don't Play With Matches
by Chibi America
Summary: Little Arthur scares the crap out of France when he plays with matches, how will Francis handle the situation? *Rated T for language and contents*


**HELLO! You guys are going to want to smack me...I know I shouldn't be posting a new story when so many others are in progress. Well, Good news...this is just a one-shot XD If you read my profile you will know why I havn't been posting...All is well I guess. My laptop is still shot though...**

**So...I bring all you people this...this...God I don't really know. (I TRIED OKAY ;-;)**

**WARNING: If corporal punishment scares you, don't read this. **

***DON'T OWN HETALIA!* and judging by my fanfics and RP's...you may not want me too!**

Arthur stood, nose in a corner, shifting from foot to foot. His legs were getting tired and he dreadfully wished to sit down. "Fraaaancis!" He called to the exact person who stuck him there.

"Nope, I said fifteen minutes, It's only been five. Now think about what you've done."

The boy groaned, it felt like bloody hours. As he shifted back and forth, standing on either foot like a flamingo; he thought about what he actually did to end up like this.

He was sitting at the table, playing with a box a strange sticks that he had found previously. It wasn't much more than several minutes later before he found the box snatched from his hand and an angry Frenchman in front of him.

Francis had told him all about what they were, and how horribly dangerous they could be, but then he said the un-thinkable.

"If I ever see you touching these again, don't think I won't turn you over my knee."

After that Arthur remembered throwing a huge fit that he didn't want to be spanked, just like many other children. At the moment, he didn't think Francis would even dare.

Even after the warning he was now standing here because this was not the first, but the SECOND time he tried to mess around with the fire summoning sticks. They were just so fun...and fire looked really really cool.

He had managed to cry and beg his way out of punishment the first incident, but Francis was not quite as gullible this time around.

"Come here Angleterre." Francis told the little one in a stern tone. He was disappointed in the English child, as he would have expected higher of the young nation.

Arthur turned around and walked a bit forward, but then backed up. He knew all too well what was going to happen; and he wanted no part of it. "Uh uh!" he shook his head furiously, his hands covering his bottom in defence.

"Don't make me repeat myself. It won't help your problem. You know what I said would happen, you could have gotten seriously hurt!" The Frenchman scolded the smaller Briton gently, never having been a cruel person.

The waterworks had already started as the child stepped back far enough to hide behind the corner of a wall. "N-No, I don't want to, It will hurt." He whined, glossy emerald eyes watering. "Please don't Franny, I'll be good, I promise!"

Francis merely shook his head. "That's what you said last time I let it go, but you went right back and did it again. That was very naughty Arthur." He looked at the boy, crossing his arms. "You have till the count of three or I'm going to come get you myself."

"One."

Still not moving.

"Two."

The child was going to come hither but, he didn't favour what would happen if he did.

"Three. Does it really have to be like this Arthur?"

By then Arthur quickly ran over, not wanting to make this any worse. He was already nervous and Francis was beginning to frighten him. "I'm sorry...please, please don't Francis please." He begged hopelessly.

France shook his head, he couldn't back down this time. "Sorry Arthur." He said as he pulled the small nation over his lap. "As much as I hate it, It has to be done." He told him, hesitantly unbuttoning the child's trousers.

This of course caused the British country to squirm in protest, trying to keep his modesty. "Ngh, n-no!" He cried out, trying to get some type of pity.

The teenage nation rolled his eyes, Arthur was being over dramatic. "Now stop that." He said, successfully managing to bare the child's backside.

Arthur flushed in embarrassment, suddenly feeling remorse over his actions. He looked at the floor in anticipation, awaiting the inevitable.

His short, stubby legs kicked backwards in dismay over the current situation. He must have scared Francis really bad for it to come to this.

With no more delay, a quick smack resounded throughout the air, Francis' hand covering the entirety of the Brit's pale puggy cheeks.

With a whimper, Arthur's mouth gaped in surprise and the shock of pain that shifted through his rear end. The young nation clenched his teeth, determined not to howel like an infant.  
Francis saw the English boy's determination and continued. The spanks being layed out one after the other.

Five smacks later Arthur gave up being a big boy, the spanking formed into one dull, throbbing ache that would increase with every god forsaken strike. "Ahh...eh...wahh..." He blubbered, being transformed into a sobbing fit of tears. Arthur's cries echoed around the room; causing his cheeks to turn a faint chrimson at hearing his own wails and pleas.

Francis applied a final strike; it was really only ten swats. However, when you were as small as Arthur it felt like an eternity later. You must also put into account that the young Briton was hardly ever naughty, this was by far no ritual.

"I-I'm s-so-sowwryyyy..." The little one sniffled, hardly forming words. Things like this got the poor boy so over worked, even if it really wasn't that severe.

"Shhhh, It's all over mon ami, s'il vous plait don't cry anymore." Francis pulled up Arthur's trousers and brought his distraught body into a hug. "Don't ever make me do that again, you scared me. I'm sorry it hurt, I really am." He cuddled the little boy, much to said little boy's disagreement.

"Owie...Francis, it doesn't feel good." Arthur complained, wiggling in the older's arms, trying to find a comfortable position. After a minute or so he just gave up, whilst the rest of his tears were being disposed of upon the French teen's stomach.

"I know it doesn't. If it did then that would kinda defeat it's purpose now wouldn't it?" Francis stroked his fingers through Arthur's mess of a head of hair, potentially calming the younger down. "There there, You're forgiven."

For once, the small nation of England smiled, cuddling up to Francis for comfort. "I'm sorry...I-I'll never play with matches ever again, not forever and ever and ever." he placed an itty-bitty thumb in his mouth, sucking it silently while Francis rocked back and forth.

Slowly, in subtle peace, Arthur drifted off to sleep. Thumb in mouth, passed out atop the only friend he had. The one person who was better than any of his horrible, nasty big brothers:

That damn Frog, but he would never admit it.

**And so, here ends my crappy ode to my fanfiction peeps :D I don't know how to describe this but...It happened. Please don't flame me, I warned you. You can't stop me from writing what I want to write, and what I'm interested in.**

*******Chibi America*******


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